Save You
by xhearttowordsx
Summary: Blaine's having some trouble at home, and he runs to his loving boyfriend for help. Rated T for discussion of physical abuse. Slight future AU - starts the summer after their senior year of high school.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first attempt at Klaine fanfic, although I've been quite invested in them for a while. I got the idea for this while dozing off in the car on vacation, and had to write it. It just sort of took off from there.**

**It's uh...kind of sad.**

**Warnings: physical abuse (discussed not shown)**

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><p>Blaine fell onto the curb, energy gone after running ten blocks from the nearest bus stop. The knees of his jeans were torn from running through bushes and tripping and falling over himself in his desperation. His curly hair was plastered to his forehead, his face stained with tears, his eyes rimmed in red. He could barely breathe as he continued to sob.<p>

He curled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, lowered his head, and waited.

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><p>Kurt pushed his hair out of his face as he drove down his street after a long summer Saturday in his dad's garage. He could not <em>wait<em> to get in the shower to get the grease and oil out of his skin. Carole and his dad had dinner plans while Finn was at Puck's for the twelfth time that month, leaving Kurt with the house to himself.

Something caught his eye, just outside the range of his headlights. He strained to see it in the dim twilight; he thought he saw a mop of frizzy curls and the flash of tattered Converse. _No, it couldn't be…what would he be doing on the –_

He slammed on the brakes just as he turned into the driveway.

On the curb sat Blaine, shoulders hunched, shaking and lurching forward slightly, breath coming in short gasps. His body was curled so small he looked like a child.

Kurt's stomach dropped as he shoved the gearshift to park and flew out of the car, only to stop as he stood a few feet from his boyfriend. The sight of such pain inflicted on this innocent, beautiful soul just broke his heart.

He swallowed and slowly walked forward.

"B-Blaine, honey?" He spoke softly as he bent down, afraid to touch the curly-haired boy. "Is…did something…?" Kurt tentatively reached a hand towards Blaine's back as the distraught boy finally lifted his head. Kurt gasped.

The right side of Blaine's face was purpling and swollen. Dried blood was smeared across his chin and jaw. Tears flowed slowly down his blotchy face as he struggled to control his breathing.

Kurt instantly – but carefully – pulled Blaine to his chest and stroked his matted hair as the sobs renewed and wracked his small frame.

"Shh, honey, I'm here…It's ok, shh," Kurt whispered to try to comfort his boyfriend, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades and placing a hand gingerly on the back of his curly head. Blaine fisted Kurt's grimy work shirt as he soaked Kurt's neck and shoulder.

Eventually Blaine's eyes seemed to run dry as his breathing calmed to the occasional hiccup. Kurt continued to rub his back, waiting for Blaine to do something…until he realized the night was pitch black and his car was haphazardly parked.

"Sweetheart," he asked softly as he kissed Blaine's temple, "would you like to go inside? Take a shower, or have something to eat…?"

Blaine just nodded once with a hiccup so Kurt lifted him to his feet and guided him towards the front door. Kurt jammed his key in the lock as quickly as he could; although it was late June in Lima the night was chilly and Blaine looked absolutely horrid.

Kurt was so worried; Blaine was never this quiet, this _upset_ for so long. _And that bruise! What on earth could have happened? Whoever did this, so help me, I will hunt them down…_

"Blaine, honey, would you like something to eat or drink?" He pulled away a bit to see the boy's bruised face. Blaine only looked up at his boyfriend though his dark lashes and nudged his shoulder, but Kurt knew him well enough to understand what he wanted, what would make him feel better.

He led Blaine to the living room and grabbed a blanket. Kissing the top of Blaine's head, Kurt wrapped the soft throw over the still-hunched shoulders and set to work. He was the only one who really knew how to prepare Blaine's favorite: Swiss hot chocolate with a small scoop of instant coffee, two marshmallows, and a snickerdoodle cookie. An exorbitant amount of sugar, but it always did the trick. Kurt was in no place to question it now.

He spun around at every hiccup, every sharp breath, every whimper from the boy in the next room.

As the water simmered Kurt wrote his parents a note briefly explaining why his car wasn't parked and tacked it on the front door.

Finally, Kurt set two large mugs and a plate of cookies on the table. He sat next to Blaine – he'd gotten a strangled whine when he made to sit on the opposite sofa. He caressed Blaine's back as the sniffling boy reached for a cookie, dunked it in his mug and took a bite. Kurt felt just an ounce of tension drain from Blaine's body._ The boy and his sugar_, he thought fondly.

Kurt waited for Blaine to drink half of his cocoa-coffee and eat a few cookies before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, I –" He took a stuttering breath; Kurt put his free hand on Blaine's knee, instantly calming him further. "I w-went to talk to my m-mom about li-living with you in ph-Philadelphia next year for college…" His voice trailed off as he dragged his hands down his face and shakily reached for his mug to take a sip.

_Oh no. Oh no, oh no, no, no, no,_ Kurt thought in a panic, trying to keep his exterior calm and comforting as he replaced Blaine's mug on the table. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, but waited for his boyfriend to collect himself.

Blaine inhaled again. "I…I told her I filled out the p-paperwork to d-dorm with you next year. My mom s–seemed all right, I guess, though didn't fu-fully approve – I saw it in h–her eyes. My d–dad though… I've barely spoken to him all y-year, just 'pass the s-salt' and 'h-here's the p-paper' a few times. But he…he overheard m-me talking to mom when he g-got home from work, and he –" Blaine took in a sharp ragged breath and his hand flew up to lightly cup his jaw, wincing.

Kurt's brow furrowed with worry as he leaned forward to look into Blaine's eyes. "…Honey? What…what did he…?"

"He stormed in-into the kitchen, and –" he hiccupped, "– and started screaming. The blood rushed t-to his f-face. He ke-kept pointing at me, c-calling me…_awful_ things, Kurt, s-saying such revolting things about _you_, about _us_… I va-vaguely heard my mom crying as she tried to quiet him and b-begged him to stop. But I –

I…I just lost it."

He sighed, then continued with an ounce more conviction in his voice. "I fought for us, Kurt. I shouted b-back, saying I di-didn't need him, his money, his approval. That I – I'm _happy_, and I know what I w-want to do want to – to _live._ That I – I love you, and nothing he does or says…that not even his obsessive, absurd h-hate of his own flesh and b-blood could do anything to ch-change my mind, could change _me_…"

Blaine took a few deep breaths, then stuffed another cookie in his mouth and gulped down the rest of his cocoa. Kurt nudged the second mug towards him, and he looked up gratefully before downing a third of it.

"By then, his face was purple, screwed up in the ugliest, most hateful expression I've ever seen. And he…he swung back an-and s-slapped me…so hard I spun halfway around and lost my balance. I – I didn't even feel my–myself hit the floor…ju-just the stinging where his hand hit me, and – and the final blow t-to destroy our already broken relationship. My mother…she just watched and s-sobbed. I loo-looked up at him, and at her, and I just – I _ran_. I ran to the bus station. I ran here. I….I've been crying for _hours_, Kurt. I just…I – it _hurts_, Kurt. It hurts that he…and – and she just – I – I can't – it –" His now-hysterical rambling speech cut off with a fresh round of gut-wrenching sobs.

Kurt couldn't speak. He had no idea what to say. He just pulled Blaine onto his lap and held him while he cried. The dark–haired boy curled up into a ball and buried his face in the brunette's chest, clutching his shirt like his life depended on it…it certainly felt like it did.

They stayed like that until both their shirts were soaked through. Kurt carefully lifted Blaine in his arms – he felt so small and frail; _has he even been eating?_ – and carried him upstairs to his bedroom. Blaine just barely registered the movement, only noticing that Kurt had moved his hands to clasp around his neck, that he wasn't curled as tightly, and he felt a bit of cool air on his legs as the blanket billowed around him. His weeping continued quietly into his boyfriend's chest, ear pressed to Kurt's aching heart.

Distantly Blaine realized Kurt had placed him on the bed and removed their sodden clothes in favor of soft sweatpants and old Dalton hoodies. He just knew he was now curled up with his head and shoulders on Kurt's chest, knees pressed firmly to Kurt's thigh. The brunette stroked the other's curly hair as the hysterics slowly subsided from sheer exhaustion; Blaine's mind couldn't bear the pain in his heart any longer, and his face began to throb.

_I wish that I could tell you something to take it all away. Sometimes I wish I could save you…_

Once Kurt was sure Blaine was asleep, be allowed himself to doze as well. Neither was free of nightmares, but their touching bodies anchored them to each other and chased away the darkness.

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><p><strong>AN: **And voila! Please let me know what you thought.****

**Last italicized line are lyrics from Save You, by Simple Plan.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I got such incredible feedback - thank you so much for the reviews! - that I decided to continue this fic. It took me a while to get this chapter done with school and writer's block keeping me down, but my lovely beta is a wonderful cheerleader. I've got ideas for where it's going to go. Hope you enjoy it!**

**As usual, Kurt and Blaine are property of Fox and RIB. I just like to borrow them.**

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><p>Around midnight Burt and Carole returned home from dinner and a movie, humming along to an old song on the radio. They had a wonderful time laughing with the Jones' about the silly romantic comedy over wine at their favorite Italian restaurant in town – Breadstix didn't count, and that was the kids' hangout.<p>

As Burt reached the driveway and made to turn in, he frowned at his son's car haphazardly parked with the back end hanging into the street. He pursed his lips, turned to Carole, and pulled up alongside the curb in front of the house.

_It isn't like Kurt to just leave his car like that. I mean, sure, I'd almost expect it from Finn, but…. This is weird. _Carole went ahead towards the house, but Burt walked slowly past the Navigator and noticed his son's bag still sitting in the front seat. He knew Kurt wasn't just rushing in to watch some TV show; something must have been wrong.

Carole gasped softly at the front door, noticing a sheet of stationary tacked over the peephole. "Burt, honey, come here," she called, worried urgency seeping through.

Burt's head snapped to see his wife holding something small and walked over, peering over her shoulder to read the note.

**_Dad and Carole,_**

**_Blaine was here when I got home. Something happened, I don't know what, but he's hurt. And he needs me. I'm sorry about the car – keys are on the counter._**

**_We'll talk in the morning_**

**_Love, K_**

The couple looked at each other, concern etched into both their features. Burt placed his hand on Carole's back as he met her eyes shining with tears. He just nodded once and unlocked the front door to lead her inside.

"Go up to bed, honey, I'll move his car," he said softly as he leaned to kiss her cheek. She met his eyes for a moment and walked slowly upstairs to their bedroom as he strolled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. He noticed the mugs and plate of cookies still in the living room.

_Kurt doesn't just whip those out for anything…and he'd never leave dirty dishes out like that…_

Burt blanched with worry, mind reeling as he reached blindly for the keys left in the middle of the countertop. He finally grasped them, shook his head to clear it, and went back out to move the cars. He returned to put the empty mugs and plate in the sink, replacing the remaining cookies in the jar – but not before having one himself. He just couldn't resist Kurt's cookies.

He walked slowly upstairs to join his wife, munching worriedly and deep in thought.

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><p>Kurt heard the front door open when his parents returned. For the past few hours he had slept lightly, if at all, afraid for the dear boy in his arms.<p>

He dreamt of the horrid scene in his mind, seeing Mr. Anderson lashing out, his wife crying but doing nothing. He imagined poor Blaine racing through the streets and shivering on the bus. He saw Blaine's red tear-stained face, the bruise spreading across his cheek from temple to jawline. He nearly felt the stings of former injuries, to his body and his heart.

Each nightmare ended just as Kurt reached for Blaine, always somehow embedded in his subconscious, Kurt's eyes flying open with a faint gasp. Blaine's grip on his shirt would tighten momentarily, like he knew even in his sleep Kurt needed the reassurance that he was there, that he was safe.

Blaine's dreams, though, were far less clear in a mind too exhausted from the overload of pain. He whimpered occasionally, fidgeting, as images of the past flashed sporadically through the dark on a loop. _A hand swinging backwards for momentum. Pain exploding from the place of impact. Three shadowed figures towering overhead. A dress shoe flying towards his face. Blood. Screams. A purpling, furious face. Tears, so many tears._ Each one sent the sharp sting of fear up his spine, the twist of anxiousness in his stomach.

But just before the memories were too much, too painful, one of solace would save him. _A soft hand in his. The taste of coffee, chocolate and mint against his lips. The sweet, tinkling laugh. Fingers curling in his hair. Warm breath against his cheek. A soft song crooned for his ears alone._ Each time his fist tightened on the fabric in his hand and he nuzzled his cheek into Kurt's chest.

Kurt sighed and opened his eyes, noting his cheeks were damp. Too exhausted to move, to even _think_ of letting go of or simply shifting Blaine, Kurt just tilted his chin upward enough for Carole to see him from the doorway. She padded softly into the room and gently draped an afghan over their intertwined bodies. She could just barely see the small, sad smile offered by Kurt in gratitude.

She met Burt in the hallway, her eyes saying what she feared to voice.

_What on earth could have happened? They look so peaceful…_

Neither saw the bruise on Blaine's face in the darkness.

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><p>Morning came, beautifully sunny as any summer day and just plain obnoxious as it streamed through Kurt's bedroom window to hit him square in the face. He groaned softly and rolled onto his side, tossing his arm over a warm form and nose turning into a bushy head of curls. He smiled and tightened his hold on Blaine as he took a deep breath of the scent that was just so..so <em>Blaine<em>,sweet and musky with the constant subtle undertone of coffee mixed with last night's hot chocolate and –

_Last night._ Kurt's grin fell as his eyes popped open, glad Blaine was facing away from him. Blaine, who somehow managed to doze off after what happened yesterday and seemed to have slept through the night. Blaine was curled up in a ball, his back pressed up against Kurt's side and hands grasping Kurt's arm where it reached across his collarbone to hold him close. Kurt took a deep breath, careful to remain still so as not to wake his boyfriend.

_Well, he slept. But his face…_ Kurt angled his head up ever so slightly to see over the squashed curls and – _oh gosh, his cheek is deep purple!_ He lowered his head and nuzzled his nose into Blaine's hair, almost as if to hide._ I should have put ice on it or something last night. He wouldn't let me though…he wouldn't do anything. I can't believe that his father would do this. That his mother would just stand idly by and watch him leave in such panic, such fear. I can't bear to see him like this… _

Kurt sniffed and realied tears were rolling slowly down his cheeks. Blaine grumbled and cuddled closer to Kurt, who in turn wrapped his arms tighter around him.

"G'morning," Blaine mumbled, voice rough with sleep. He lifted Kurt's hand from his waist, pressed his lips to the palm and held it to his heart.

Kurt couldn't help but smile at the gesture and kissed Blaine's hair. "Good morning, sweetheart…" He let his voice trail off, unsure if he should say anything more. He didn't want to upset Blaine so soon, but they would need to talk about the previous night at some point. Especially with his parents. Speaking of…

"Is that –" Blaine inhaled deeply through his nose and hummed. "Pancakes? And coffee?" Kurt could hear the hint of a smile in his boyfriend's voice and rolled his eyes fondly.

"Yes, Carole has an excellent pancake recipe with bananas. Would you like some breakfast?" Before he even finished his sentence Blaine was nodding excitedly and twisting around in Kurt's embrace with a silly grin, though his eyes weren't as bright as usual. Kurt was almost surprised Blaine could smile at all; but that was Blaine, always smiling, effervescent, exciteable Blaine. Even when he felt the worst he could find a reason to muster up a smile.

_Keeping him distracted may be a good idea…so I can talk to dad. Blaine can't go back there. He can't. I won't let him._ Kurt managed to hold a small smile on his face as he gave his adorable boyfriend's nose a light kiss. As per usual, Blaine tilted his head to reach for Kurt's lips, only meeting his soft cheek as the brunette twisted away at the last second.

"Morning breath. Brush teeth." Kurt giggled, destroying his mock-disgust as he gave in and kissed Blaine before begrudgingly getting out of bed. He turned towards the bathroom and added with a glance over his shoulder, "And there's coffee downstairs," before grabbing his toothbrush and Blaine's spare from the drawer.

Blaine watched his boyfriend for a moment before scrambling over to him and grabbing the toothpaste.

It was oddly domestic, getting cleaned up in the morning together. Sure, they'd slept at each other's houses – well, Blaine's slept over more than the other way around – and they'd done this before. But it never failed to make their hearts flutter at the thought of similar mornings down the line; in one or five or ten years, they could both see the scene in a noticeably different setting, maybe their own apartment in the city. They hadn't discussed it, though it didn't feel pressing to do so. They both knew this was it, they were looking at their future right before their eyes. It was all they wanted. This was their forever. So no, they were not explicitly _aware_ of how the other felt, but they didn't mind. They had a feeling it would last.

But now wasn't the time to discuss it. Blaine had noticed his bruise and his eyes welled up. He dropped his toothbrush on the counter and spun away from the mirror just as Kurt reached out to him. Blaine's hands curled into fists around Kurt's shirt as his forehead pressed to his boyfriend's neck. Sobs wracked his small frame. Slightly taken aback by the sudden onslaught of memory and unsure of what there was for him to do, he simply held onto Blaine, one hand smoothing his matted curls as the other rubbed soothing circles between his shoulders.

A few minutes later Blaine managed to catch his breath and lifted his head to meet Kurt's gaze with eyes so pained it broke Kurt's heart. The brunette brushed the other's stray tears with the pads of his thumbs, then simply cupped his cheeks.

"Whatever you need. I'm always here. Anything, anytime. Okay? Always." His eyes never left Blaine's, voice never wavered. The smaller boy couldn't find any words; his lips wouldn't work. He just nodded once and wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck. _Thank you. I don't know what to do._

"We will figure something out. But we do have to talk to Dad and Carole, okay? They can help." Blaine just nodded again and took a stuttered breath.

After a minute he asked in a low whisper, "Pancakes and coffee?"

Kurt couldn't help but chuckle at his adorable boyfriend. "Yes, let's go." He guided Blaine back into his bedroom – pointedly avoiding the mirrors – and down to the kitchen. They could brush their teeth later, Kurt decided. He wouldn't push Blaine.

They were met with delicious aromas as Carole placed a pancake atop an already large stack on the platter beside the stove. Burt was seated at the table reading the paper holding a cup of coffee, four places set at the table. Kurt silently thanked whoever was listening that Finn had gone to Puck's for the night. The conversation that was bound to occur was not something Finn should be involved in.

Burt looked up at them, eyes instantly drawn to Blaine's cheek. His eyes flew to meet Kurt's. He raised his brows and nodded slightly as if to say, _Yes, we're going to talk after breakfast. Whatever it is, we'll work it out. _Kurt let his face crumple for a moment in thanks, relief, pain, worry…he needed help dealing with this.

Blaine's gaze was trained on Carole and the pancakes, oblivious to the silent exchange. His stomach rumbled loudly enough for all four to hear.

Everyone turned to the boy, wide-eyed but grinning, as a small sheepish smile spread across his own lips.

"Can, uh…can I have some pancakes please? They smell _delicious_." Blaine's voice was small, unsure, nervous. Kurt squeezed his hand reassuringly and grinned.

"Of course, sweetie," Carole replied warmly. _The way a mother should speak,_ Blaine thought idly. "Just finished the batch. Grab some coffee and take a seat." She smiled as she carried the platter to the table and sat beside her husband. Burt folded his paper and set it to the side to make room as the boys crossed the kitchen to make their coffee. Once their backs were turned the older couple shared a concerned look, both having seen Blaine's bruise. Carole's eyes teared up as Burt's brow furrowed. He nodded at her. _We have to talk to them now._ She blinked and took a breath, settling into her chair as she nodded in return.

Kurt and Blaine liked their coffee the same way and had it down to a science. Blaine grabbed the Hazelnut creamer from the fridge as Kurt spooned two scoops of instant coffee into each of their mugs and added the hot water from the kettle. Kurt set the can of coffee to the side and took a spoon from the drawer to his right. He turned back to see Blaine lift the can to his eye level and scrunch up his nose in mock distaste.

Kurt just rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards the bottle sitting on the counter and stirred the contents of one mug, pausing as Blaine added creamer. _At least he's still complaining about the instant coffee. That's normal. Maybe this will be easy, maybe… _

He noticed Blaine hadn't moved to the second mug. Brow furrowed, Kurt lifted his gaze from the coffee to find his boyfriend staring into the swirling mixture. Blaine's hand clutched the bottle enough to dent it as his entranced expression slowly morphed towards one of anguish. Kurt put his hands on Blaine's forearms as he ducked to his eye level, trying to catch the smaller boy's gaze. Not until Kurt gently cupped Blaine's cheek did he get a response. His hand fell slack from where it gripped the creamer, and he slowly turned to face Kurt.

Blaine's hazel eyes were clouded, darkened, yet shining with tears. Kurt saw the heartbreaking pain once more and hastily pulled his boyfriend into his arms. Blaine's hands were trapped between their chests, fisting in Kurt's shirt.

Only at the sound of Blaine's ragged breath did Burt and Carole spin in their chairs to face the boys, surprised and worried and unsure. Kurt shot them a look that _begged_ for help, but slowly rubbed up and down Blaine's back.

Burt was the first to speak. "Why don't you kids have a seat. Seems like there's something we need to talk about."

Blaine dissolved into broken sobs as he fell against Kurt.

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><p><strong>AN: I'M SORRY. IT'LL GET BETTER I PROMISE. BLAINERS WILL BE HAPPY. Just hang in there.**

**As usual, reviews are like coffee - delicious, magical, reviving and extremely motivational.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Ah! And here it is, finally! Sorry for the delay on this! Apparently it was a lot closer to finished than I remembered, albeit short...****It's been really tough to write this, which is why it's taking me so long. Just hang in there.**

**(Hey, at least I've been writing while in London. Right? ^.^)**

**As usual, I don't own any of the characters, I just borrow them and play around.**

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><p>Kurt finally managed to calm Blaine down enough to eat – coffee was his weakness – and the four sat in silence for a while. The adults didn't want to start talking after such an outburst, Blaine didn't think he <em>could <em>talk about it yet, and Kurt was just taking Blaine's cues as he hoped someone else would say something first.

Once the dishes had been cleared and coffee cups refilled, Burt clasped his hands on the table and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Blaine, but I think we should talk about…well, whatever happened yesterday." He heard a ragged breath and looked at Blaine with empathy, pity, concern. _That's the way a father should look when his son is hurt, _Blaine realized, his heart clenching in his chest as he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. "It's going to be really hard to, but we need to know so we can help."

Carole shifted in her chair. Burt's brow furrowed with concern as he spoke softly, "Can you tell us, Blaine?"

Blaine stared down at the table, not really seeing anything. He drew his lower lip into his mouth and worried at it with his teeth. His hands fisted in the material of his pajama pants. He began nodding slowly, though didn't move his gaze or appear to want to start. Maybe he didn't know _how_ to start. Maybe he couldn't or shouldn't even share at all…

_Is it even worth it? Would they be able to anything? It's my word against dad's – and dad has the money to back his side up regardless. He can cut me off, kick me out. Mom will stand with him. I'll be on my own. I'll have to pay for school on my own; I may not even be able to go. I'll never be anything, go anywhere…_

Kurt helplessly watched tears threaten to fall as Blaine battled with himself.

Blaine took a deep, shaky breath and set his jaw._ But if I don't say anything...if I do nothing, he gets away with this. He gets away with treating me like shit, hitting me, verbally abusing me, _disowning_ me. I can't just let it happen. And I can't go back there – I won't. I went to Dalton to run away from the bullies. I can't run away now._

Kurt pried one of Blaine's fists open enough to weave their fingers together and squeezed reassuringly. The smaller boy turned his eyes to their clasped hands and one corner of his mouth quirked in a small, sad smile. He sighed before lifting his head to meet his boyfriend's eyes. He licked his lips nervously; his brows drew up and together. He found support and sorrow in Kurt's eyes shining with tears.

Burt and Carole watched their exchange fondly, waiting, understanding.

Finally, Blaine spoke in a voice so small, so hurt, that even Kurt barely recognized him.

"Okay. I….I'll explain."

So he did. He told Burt and Carole about that innocent yet fateful comment planning his future, the fight, the tears, the pain, the rush to flee. The lack of appropriate parental action.

It was as if a wall had been torn down, a dam had been broken: once he started talking, he just couldn't stop the words from tumbling through his lips. He filled in what he'd rarely mentioned to Kurt about his family life.

"He'd tell me to ask out his colleagues' daughters even though he knew I'm with Kurt. He t-tried to push me into law school across the country by barely saying a word, just thrusting inform-mation and his own ach-chievements in my face. He'd throw out flippant offensive comments when he knew I was within earshot. He hasn't had an actual, civil c-conversation with me all year…"

Kurt simply sat beside his boyfriend, soft hands clasping calloused ones, thumbs stroking over knuckles gently. He silently listened to the story, his parents' reactions, his lover's pain. It wasn't his story to tell, his pain to express…but it was his other half suffering. Really, that was worse than his own pain; Blaine was the last person to deserve any of this.

Waves of support and unadulterated love washed over Blaine even as his voice shook. He paused once to sip his coffee as an attempt at steadying his voice, still a bit rough from sleep and all the crying he'd done. His cheek throbbed but he kept his hands in his lap, fingers intertwined with Kurt's.

Even by the time Blaine's voice trailed off Burt and Carole didn't know what to say. Their hearts clenched in their chests for the poor boy before them, for their son sharing his pain.

Carole took a shaky breath and placed a hand on Burt's where they still rested atop the table. _We need to talk about this, and we need to talk with Kurt. We need to do _something_. Blaine can't go back there; I won't let him. _

She met Kurt's eyes, shining just like her own. _And I don't think Kurt will either._ She flashed him a tiny hint of a sad smile before pursing her lips and squeezing her husband's hands.

Kurt sniffed loudly and straightened up, turning his face back to Blaine and trying to smooth the worried creases.

"Blaine," he asked softly, "sweetie, would you like to take a shower? I think it'll help you relax a bit." He squeezed his boyfriend's hands, still intertwined.

Blaine licked his lips and nodded shyly. "That'd…yeah. A shower would be great," he sighed, turning to Kurt.

"Okay, baby, come on then." Kurt stood slowly, pulling Blaine to his feet as he wrapped an arm around his waist. As they made their way out of the kitchen Kurt looked over his shoulder and mouthed, _I'll be right back to talk,_ to his parents. Burt nodded once, and Kurt continued to the stairs.

Kurt closed the door to his bathroom behind them and sat Blaine down on the closed toilet seat. He turned the water on and set a towel on the counter. He turned back to Blaine, finding him with his head hanging, lower lip drawn between his teeth and eyes once again brimming with tears.

He felt as if his heart fractured in his chest. He fell to his knees before Blaine, reaching to gently cup his cheeks.

"Oh, Blaine, sweetheart…" His voice barely reached a whisper. Blaine lifted his eyes slowly to meet Kurt's, brows knitted together. "You'll be okay. Everything will be okay. We'll fix this, figure it out. I promise."

When Blaine's response was only to let a few tears fall, Kurt wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. "I love you. So, so much. I'm so sorry this happened to you. But I love you. I'll always be here for you, whatever you need. Okay? I love you."

Blaine lifted his hands to cover Kurt's, lacing their fingers together. "I love you too. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you, if I never found you. I just…thank you."

His voice trailed off just as Kurt began to cry.

"Oh honey –" Kurt reached his arms around Blaine and hugged him tightly, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders. Blaine fisted his boyfriend's shirt on his back. He let out a broken sob into Kurt's neck.

They held onto each other for a few moments before Kurt sniffed and pulled back. "Co-come on, let's get you in the shower. You'll feel better."

When Blaine didn't move, Kurt slowly slid his hands down to the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his boyfriend's head. He tossed it to the corner before slowly pulling Blaine to his feet. He knelt and gently tugged Blaine's sweatpants downward until they pooled at his ankles. He left his boxers in place; he knew Blaine would want to remove those himself before he stepped under the hot spray.

He stood and cupped Blaine's cheeks, tilting his head to meet his gaze. Once he had captured his boyfriend's attention, Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

"Please, take a shower. As long as you want. I'll set out some fresh clothes and wait downstairs, okay?"

Blaine nodded just slightly.

"I love you." Kurt kissed him again before sliding his hands down Blaine's arms, intertwining their fingers when he reached them.

"I love you too," Blaine whispered.

Kurt's lips pressed together in a small smile. He nodded before slowly backing out of the bathroom. He closed the door as Blaine turned to the shower, thumbs hooking under the waistband of his boxers. He found a pair of jeans Blaine had left behind once and a soft maroon v-neck. He placed both at the foot of his bed along with a pair of socks before quickly returning to the kitchen.

He found Burt and Carole still at the table and speaking softly. A few wadded tissues sat beside their clasped hands. Silently he joined them.

Carole turned to Kurt. She saw the dark circles under his eyes, shining with unshed tears. She saw the skin puckered at his brow as his forehead creased. She saw his shoulders droop, the tension in his slumped posture. She saw him worry his lower lip between his teeth. She saw the confused hopeless pain emanating from him like an aura; it was nearly palpable.

"Kurt, honey?" she asked, voice a bit shaky. "Are…are _you_ all right?"

He lifted his head slowly to meet her gaze. His usually bright blue eyes were a flat grey.

Without a word it was clear that, no, he was most certainly not all right. But he responded anyway.

"No, not at all. I am in _physical pain_ for him. In every way. I don't know what to do to help him, but I have to do _something_. I can't just sit by and let him go back there, let him deal with this on his own. His world has come crashing down around him and I need to be there to help him piece it back together. _But I don't know how._"

By the end tears had begun to fall and his voice rose into a wail. His face fell into his hands as he sobbed. He had managed to keep a mask of calm in place for Blaine, but he was so worn down from everything that had happened in the past two days. He didn't brush off his father's strong arms guiding him out of his seat to move into the living room, nor the tissue box Carole placed on his lap once he was seated. He blew his nose and scrubbed at his eyes.

"So when should we go over to Blaine's to get his things?"

Kurt froze and stared wide-eyed at his father beside him. "Wh-what," he whispered. It wasn't a question, barely even a word. He almost didn't believe that his father had spoken.

"Well," Burt sighed, rubbing his son's forearm. "He sure as hell isn't going back home with those parents of his. And you're right, he needs you. So he can stay here, for the rest of the summer if he'd like, before you boys go off to college. We'll go grab some of his stuff now, just the basics, and the college stuff closer to when we drive out to Philly. Okay?"

Kurt teared up again and threw his arms around his father's neck.

"Thank you, dad. So, so much," he murmured and fisted his dad's shirt.

Burt held his son tightly as Carole patted his shoulder from the other side. Kurt eventually let go of his father to hug Carole as well. He then sat up and wiped the fresh tears off his cheeks.

"He can stay in your room for a week or two, until he's…well, until he feels okay enough to stay in Finn's. But open door policy, okay? I trust you, kiddo." Burt placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Of course, dad."

Just then, Blaine could be heard descending to the living room. He paused at the foot of the stairs when he spotted the three on the sofas.

Kurt immediately rose and went to Blaine. He cupped his boyfriend's cheeks, still warm from the shower, and met his gaze. Under his damp curls Kurt saw wary hope, appreciation, and absolute love light his hazel eyes. Kurt kissed him softly before bringing one of Blaine's hands to rest over his heart and speaking softly.

"Blaine, would you like to stay here with us? For the rest of the summer, if you'd like. We can get some of your things so you're more comfortable, and pre-plan what to take when we leave for school. What do you think?"

Blaine stared dumbfounded at his boyfriend, who just nodded with a small smile. He looked past Kurt to see Burt and Carole had risen to follow with similar expressions.

He launched himself at Kurt, hugging him tightly and nearly knocking them both to the ground.

"Oh, gosh, yes, thank you, thank you, please, yes," Blaine babbled as he started to cry. Burt approached and lay a hand on Kurt's back as Blaine pulled away. He held his hand out to Burt, quickly scrubbing away his tears. "Thank you, sir, so much. This means the world to me."

"C'mere, kid, give me a hug. You're gonna be living here and I already consider you one of my own." He opened his arms, and Blaine nearly jumped into the embrace. His father hadn't hugged him like this for years, let alone even shaken his hand. He'd forgotten what it felt like to feel absolutely protected like this.

_Protected._ That was new.

Blaine thought that, maybe, probably, he could be okay. Would be okay.

He clutched Burt like a lifeline.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****Ugh, I just want to cuddle Blainers forever. But he won't be sad forever! It gets happier...**

**Reviews are like coffee. Which I'll need something fierce in the morning.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry this update took so long...between school things and writer's block and this being actually really difficult to write on a few levels, I couldn't write for long at a time. But here it is, and welp. I had a _lot_ of help from my lovely Meghan (SMFAHForLife) for hashing out the plot and Shannon (UndapperPuppy) for beta-ing and accuracy, and both of them for being all around wonderful and putting up with me.**

**Warnings for this chapter: "mentions of suicide, physical abuse, intense feels and fluff," according to Shannon.**

**Also, I've made a few edits in the previous chapters to correct inconsistencies, if anyone had noticed them.**

**As usual, I don't own the characters; apparently I just like to torture them all.**

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for Blaine to realize that <em>get some of your things<em> meant going back to his house. Meant facing his parents and that spot where he'd fallen and all the places in the house where his father had been horrid and wretched and hit him and his mother had stood silently by. Meant being in the most terrifying place he'd come to know, the place he'd run from.

He couldn't breathe.

Blaine was shaking in Burt's arms, hands still tightly fisted in the back of the older man's shirt but arms heavy. Burt shot a look to Kurt, who stepped forward instantly and placed a soft hand at the small of Blaine's back.

Kurt took a breath, tried to steady his voice. "Blaine?"

The simple touch, the small voice brought Blaine crashing back down into himself, pulled him through the tidal waves of his thoughts and fears.

_Kurt_.

The frail boy dropped his arms and nearly fell in his haste to face Kurt. His eyes were wide, red, tears falling in earnest. Terrified. Hazy and trying to focus on Kurt. The purple mark on his cheek stood out more on his suddenly pale face, white as a sheet. His mouth was twitching, lips quivering and struggling to form the words he couldn't utter.

It broke Kurt's heart all over again. Without a thought he pulled Blaine towards him, cradling the back of his head and arm tight around his shoulders as Blaine's hands clutched at Kurt's shirt where they were trapped between their bodies. He sucked in a shaky, shuddering gasp, forehead pressed to Kurt's shoulder as he sobbed loudly.

Burt stepped back hesitantly, watching closely as he pulled a crying Carole into his arms. He didn't know what to do, what to say, where to go. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Watching Kurt's face as he tried to quiet Blaine his heart tore in two. Kurt's chin was tucked against Blaine's head, eyes screwed shut as he cried, murmuring soothing nonsense – maybe to calm himself as much as it was to calm his boyfriend.

None of them knew how long they stood there, just…._crying_ in the hallway. Eventually Carole went to fetch tissue boxes and put on a pot of water for tea, and Burt gently guided the boys to the sofa. By then Blaine's sobs had subsided enough for him to stop shaking, but he sat tucked tightly against Kurt's side as he soothingly rubbed Blaine's arm and leg.

Kurt, though, was having his own trouble breathing. He tried to push his own pain and terror down; Blaine needed him. He took a breath.

"Bl-Blaine, baby, what was – are y– okay?"

"I….it – the house. I don't – I can't…they're – them - _there_," Blaine whispered brokenly, moving his gaze from his lap to meet Kurt's eyes, willing him to grasp his meaning through the tears.

Kurt understood all too well. The terror of returning to the people who tormented and caused so much pain, to the place of the incidents. The inability to articulate your fears. He nodded slowly, brow creased, and sniffed before scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his free hand.

"I-I know, sweetheart, I know. It…it'll b-be okay." Kurt's eyes shot over to his dad across the room in a frantic plea.

Burt cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, Blaine. Don't worry, we'll figure it out. You'll be fine. And…and we're always here for you. Promise." He watched Blaine give him a small smile full of the gratitude he didn't know how to express amidst the pain and fear. Burt just nodded and went to join Carole in the kitchen.

They sat together on the couch for a while, until Blaine's subtle tremors became slightly violent spasms. Immediately Kurt wrapped both arms tightly around his boyfriend and pulled him onto his lap, kissing his hair and murmuring in his ear.

"Shh, Blaine…do you want to go upstairs to lie down?" He rubbed Blaine's back soothingly.

Blaine made a low noise in his throat, something between a hum and a whimper, then spoke in a small, broken voice that Kurt rarely heard: "Only if y-you come, too."

"Of course, honey." Kurt kissed his hair again before gently guiding him off the couch and up to his room

They lay together on top of Kurt's plush comforter with their legs tangled and arms around each other. Occasionally Blaine would nuzzle Kurt's cheek with a shaky sigh, and Kurt would kiss Blaine's temple. Kurt knew Blaine needed to talk, to lessen some of the awful load he carried on his shoulders, but would take some time to be ready. Kurt would wait, would be there for him whenever he had something to say.

* * *

><p>It turned out that Blaine had a lot to say that week.<p>

Mostly they stayed in Kurt's room, but sometimes needed to stretch or eat or shower ("Please, Blaine, it is so hot out, just stand under the cold water for five minutes, it'll help") or just prove to Burt and Carole that they were still alive.

Blaine would sporadically tell Kurt something new, a story or explanation, always things he'd never told a soul before. At least one of them cried every time.

* * *

><p>One story came that night, the first of the rest of their last summer before college. Kurt sat against the headboard with Blaine between his legs and wrapped in his arms. The television played a marathon of Big Bang Theory that they'd found while surfing, neither really paying much attention to it. The credits rolled between episodes.<p>

"Hey, Blaine, do you want to borrow my laptop to –"

A small, noncommittal, unintelligible noise.

"What?"

"N-no. I don't want to."

Kurt lifted his head and craned his neck around enough to crook an eyebrow curiously within Blaine's sight. Blaine, though, fixed his gaze on the far wall and held his jaw tightly.

As Kurt leaned back again, not wanting to pressure his boyfriend, Blaine took a deep breath. Somehow his voice was steady, low and even, as if he'd been preparing himself for a bit of a speech for a while. Kurt suspected he had.

"I…I can't be online right now, and I turned my phone off for the same reason. I can't handle the texts from Wes, David and Mike innocently asking where I am because they're worried about why I haven't answered them in over two days when we usually have near constant conversations going on at all hours. I can't bring myself to talk to people after…after something happens."

Kurt whispered, "Something…with your dad?"

Blaine nodded once. "Any time my d-dad is particularly awful – screams until he's red in the face about my w-worth, or shoves me into the wall, or hits me – I just withdraw and disconnect for a while. Maybe for up to a week; just enough time to feel sort of…sort of _human_ again."

There was nothing for Kurt to say. He just held Blaine a little tighter, pressed his cheek to the top of Blaine's head, and hoped Blaine could _feel_ how important he was and how little he deserved everything that had been done to him.

"I…I just don't want to deal with other people right now because…because you and Burt and Carole are the only other people that know what happened – and know that it isn't even close to the first time – and no one even suspects anything anyway. I rather they didn't." Blaine's voice had begun to shake. "It will _kill _me to have to tell anyone else right now. And I – I wish I didn't have to tell you, but – but I need to. It's you. And I – I need you. More than anything. More than the embarrassment and worthlessness of other people knowing – especially people like you and Burt and Carole because I care so much about you all and you've been nothing but warm and welcoming and _wonderful_ and I hate to burden you with the shit in my life."

Kurt rubbed Blaine's arm and spoke softly. "I'm not sure if – if this was okay, but I told the three of them that your sudden disappearances had something to do with your past. I didn't really know what to say because I didn't really know myself, but they were so worried that time in the fall…they just needed to know it wasn't them, and that you would come back when you were ready."

"It was never them. It was never anyone other than my dad. It's – it's fine that you said that; it's at least partly true. Wait, did –" Blaine swallowed and his voice rose in panic. "Did they think it was ever their fault?"

"No, sweetie," Kurt murmured and kissed Blaine's hair. "I – I talked to them about it last time. They said they knew about the dance and why you went to Dalton – that you'd told them about all that – and suspected that maybe your house wasn't the best place to live. They sort of suspect something's…not quite right, but don't have solid evidence to do anything, nor do they know what they really can do to help. Just know they've never been upset with you for it, Blaine. How can they be?"

Blaine's bitter laugh startled Kurt. "Oh, _Mr. Anderson_ is always kind and polite in anyone's sight, but behind closed doors he – he's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. How can they suspect him, though, if on the rare occasions they've ever met him or even know he's there he seems like a decent human being?" He rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"They said there's always something tense in the air when he's around," Kurt supplied hesitantly.

"That's putting it mildly."

"They just want to be good friends to you."

Blaine swallowed again, eyes brimming in tears and voice thick. "They are. The three of them – and you, especially you – are most of the reason I've been able to find my way back every time."

"We're always there for you, honey."

"I – I know. You're all so supportive and helpful just by treating me like a – a normal person, not like the breakable, _worthless_ little kid I feel like sometimes."

Kurt hummed and nuzzled his nose in Blaine's hair for a moment. He swallowed past the lump in his throat before whispering, "I'm so glad you found them. They're so good for you."

"I don't know where I'd be without them. Without you."

Taking a shaky breath, they both pushed the possibilities from their minds. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hands where they rested on his stomach and pressed into him.

They fell asleep like that, the television still softly playing.

* * *

><p>Monday afternoon Kurt and Blaine sat for a late lunch in the kitchen. The house was silent and empty; Burt and Carole were at work, and Finn had jogged down to the park to shoot some hoops with Puck as the heat tapered off. Sunshine streamed through the windows at an angle, dappled light playing across the table and tile floor as they ate sandwiches.<p>

It wasn't long before Blaine's small bites slowed and stopped altogether, leaving him picking at the leftover bread crust. Kurt tried not to watch him too closely – or at least tried to be subtle – eyeing his boyfriend's plate but saying nothing. He'd been gently encouraging Blaine to eat something small every few hours in place of larger meals that tended to take more effort and time than he could manage without shutting down or panicking, and didn't push him to eat with his family.

"I – I won't go running," Blaine suddenly said, face now turned to the window. A woman jogged down the sidewalk across the street, and he watched her pass.

Kurt swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and folded his hands on the table; he'd assumed Blaine had something on his mind. "Running?"

Blaine blinked and shook his head slightly, eyes fixed on the woman outside as she disappeared down the block. "N-no. Not for exercise."

"Ah, I remember your blunt refusal when I suggested a jog last year."

"But I never told you why."

Kurt hummed softly in confirmation, waiting for him to continue.

"I – it – I just…I can't." Blaine took a deep breath. "I haven't for years. I won't go on a treadmill or elliptical machine, or run track or cross country, or sprints for warm ups, or jogging around the block…no. I won't do it.

"At Dalton we always had another option. Gym class was always group sports or individual training. So sure, I've run during a soccer game or Frisbee or whatever with my friends, or occasionally to get to class on time. But never seriously _running_."

Kurt's brow furrowed as he watched Blaine turn to glare at his plate.

"I – it's – it feels like…like running _away_, just to come back with my tail between my legs. It feels cowardly because I've fled from my life enough. It feels like trying to get away from my dad and the bullies and my personal hellhole and _everything_." He inhaled shakily and whispered, "It makes me feel _weak_."

Kurt sagged in his chair, another fracture cracking his broken heart as his eyes watered. He reached for one of Blaine's hands and saw the other boy's tense shoulders relax slightly with the contact.

Finally Blaine looked up, met Kurt's shining eyes with tears in his own. "So I started boxing. It helped me let out the frustration and tension and fear and _pain_ that I had no other way to deal with or escape from."

"Fight club?" Kurt's voice cracked.

The corner of Blaine's lips twitched into a small smile. "Yeah. And…sometimes I felt the best when I saw the cuts and bruises on my knuckles, arms, chest…they covered up what my dad did. Gave me a better reason to be battered."

His eyes lost focus as a memory hit him.

_Less than a month had passed since Blaine transferred to Dalton. He was sitting in the living room reading his history homework assignment when his dad stormed through the front door a full two hours earlier than he usually came home for dinner – before Blaine could be sure to hole himself up in his room for the night. His dad stopped on the opposite side of the coffee table facing Blaine, face flushed and chest heaving. Blaine had enough time to look up curiously – and slightly afraid – before his dad started yelling. _

_For ten solid minutes he yelled at Blaine for performing with the Warblers instead of joining the baseball team. He'd talked to the coach – an old friend of his – and asked how Blaine had been playing and found out his son had never showed up again after a half-hearted tryout. _

_His dad just wouldn't stop. At some point Blaine rose from the couch as he tried to explain but his dad wouldn't listen. He gave up as his dad's face turned an even shade of burgundy and turned away to leave the room. His dad grabbed his wrist and spun him around, pulling and squeezing enough to bruise when Blaine tried to break his grip. He pulled Blaine forward and grabbed his upper arm with his free hand and literally tried to yank Blaine out to the yard to practice hitting – he said Blaine would just try out for the coach privately the next day. _

_It took almost ten more minutes but Blaine finally got loose and bolted up to his room. That night he filled out the form to apply for a dorm at Dalton._

_The next day Wes and Blaine went to the library together during study hall, and Blaine took his jacket off to settle in for the hour. His sleeve rucked up and the giant purple mark peeked out. Wes almost fell out of his chair. He made Blaine roll up his sleeve; Blaine hadn't even really seen the bruise himself until just then – he couldn't look at it at first. The thick purple and blue band went around his wrist and stretched halfway to his elbow. He didn't show Wes the matching mark on his bicep._

_He told Wes that it was just from boxing too intensely, tying the glove too tightly, someone getting a good shot in at Fight Club._

_Wes wasn't convinced, but let it go and pulled out his notebook._

_Every time Blaine had a suspicious bruise, Wes would eye it and catch Blaine's gaze with a question in his eyes. But Blaine couldn't tell him what his dad had done any of those times – it was easier to cover it up._

_Or so he thought._

Blaine's tears spilled down his cheeks and he absently rubbed his wrist with his free hand, feeling the phantom grip there below Kurt's grasp.

Panicking at the sudden reaction Kurt tried to bring Blaine back to the story, to the kitchen, to _him_. "So it was s-something you could – sort of – control?"

Blaine blinked and nodded, scrubbing his eyes. "It was like…like I was fighting back, _finally_ standing up to my dad and my mom and all those dickwads that pushed me down and made my life miserable. And it wasn't like I ever really _would_ do anything to come back at my dad, because he made me feel so _worthless_ without even a glance and could have done so much worse if I'd tried to fight."

Kurt clicked his tongue and rubbed a thumb across the back of Blaine's hand.

"But boxing…it makes me feel like I have a chance," Blaine confessed with conviction and locked eyes with Kurt. "Like maybe, someday, I _will _stand up to him. I'll defend myself and anyone else that needs it. Maybe I'll be strong enough to do something."

"You are, Blaine. You are so much stronger, so much better than him, than all of them."

Blaine lifted their entwined hands to kiss Kurt's knuckles. "Because I have you to fight for now."

* * *

><p>A sudden thunderstorm broke through the silence Wednesday night, thunder shaking the windowpanes and lightning cracking through the sky. Kurt and Blaine sat against the headboard, legs entwined under the covers as soft music played from Kurt's nightstand.<p>

An abandoned magazine lay open on Kurt's lap as he carded his fingers through Blaine's curls, the smaller boy curled up against his chest. Blaine's ear was pressed above Kurt's heartbeat, and he glanced out the window as the rain began to fall in sheets, body jolting with the first roll of thunder. Kurt kissed his temple and hushed him, tightening his arms around Blaine when he pressed himself impossibly closer.

A few moments later, Blaine murmured something unintelligible into Kurt's shirt.

"Sorry?"

"I, uh…driving in the rain scares me."

"I know, sweetie, it's okay."

"At night is the worst."

Kurt hummed his agreement.

"I…it – it makes me think of…"

Kurt whispered, "Of what, honey?"

"Well…well just," Blaine paused. "Just how easy it would be to get out. To – to finish it all," he finished in a rushed breath.

"To…to…end it?" Kurt's voice was low and somber, eyes wide at the confession.

"Yeah. It – god, just some days were so _hard_, and I never really considered it, but just – maybe it would be easier, you know? Just getting it over with?"

"Oh, Blaine, I –"

"No, just – just cut the wheel and it would flip and roll and, well, maybe that would hurt less. Would be quicker."

Kurt didn't know what to say. Tears spilled silently down his cheeks.

"I don't even mean to think it, not really," Blaine rushed to explain. "All of a sudden I'd see it all happen in my head and my hands would slide a bit on the wheel and I couldn't breathe. Sometimes I had to pull over to calm down. Just…driving down the highway through a storm like this, the road empty enough so it wasn't likely to hurt anyone else, and just – I couldn't handle _life_ anymore, Kurt. Some days it seemed easier to try."

Kurt croaked, "But –"

"But I couldn't do it. It – it scared me way too much. Like…what if I survived, but barely? How would I be able to live with the knowledge that I'd tried and failed, and ruined the last shred of light in my shitty life in the process? What if I couldn't perform with the Warblers anymore or walk or even feed myself? I would have failed at something else in my dad's eyes. I would be treated like a breakable little kid. And my friends…god, it would have destroyed Wes and David and Jeff and Nick and all of those guys. I couldn't – wouldn't abandon them like that, not after they took me in and helped put me back together so many times. The thought _terrified _me, still does, but every time I drive through a storm it happens again and I just – what if I had just once tightened my grip and turned and –"

"Shh, no, please," Kurt whispered thickly.

"And if I'd done it, I wouldn't have met you. I wouldn't be here, not in any way. And I thank whoever's up there listening that I never did anything."

Kurt nuzzled Blaine's hair and whispered, "me too."

"You saved me, you know. You still do. Every minute. I – just – just thinking about you makes everything okay. Makes the shit worth it, makes the hell I went through worth it. Because I can come back to you. Because I have you."

"You saved me too."

Lightning shattered the sky and rain drummed on the roof.

* * *

><p>Friday morning they got up at a somewhat acceptable hour – well, Kurt got up earlier so he could shower while he let Blaine sleep because Blaine just looked so peaceful and happy it made Kurt's stomach flutter – and went around each other as they got ready.<p>

Kurt sat at his vanity as he applied one of his moisturizers (_the skinny pale blue bottle,_ Blaine thought,_ the basic one, the first layer of treatment that really just made his skin so soft and left him smelling just faintly like fresh rain and cucumbers and any normal day he would add another two layers but that one was fine on its own for around the house on a warm day_). Kurt was already dressed in black yoga pants and a white v-neck. How he could look flawless in anything, Blaine would never understand.

Blaine emerged from the bathroom in boxers and crossed the room, catching Kurt's smile as he reached for the clothes on the bed – a pair of Kurt's khaki shorts and a plain navy t-shirt because it was sure to be unbearably hot out again and the cooling system only worked so well, and it wasn't like they'd be going anywhere farther than the yard if that. Kurt stood and walked over to Blaine, holding a small bottle. Blaine held his hand out for Kurt to squeeze a small dollop of anti-frizz serum into the center of his palm before doing the same for himself and setting the bottle on the nightstand. They rubbed their hands together to spread the serum evenly, reached simultaneously for each other's hair and ran their fingers through, distributing and lightly styling for the day.

Kurt's hands lingered in Blaine's hair and trailed down to cup his cheeks, pressing their lips together gently. Blaine sighed and smiled into the kiss.

"I love you."

"I love you too," Blaine whispered, cupping his hands over Kurt's.

"I'm always here for you."

"I know."

"No matter what."

Blaine nodded with another smile. "Thank you."

"You're beautiful."

"I – what?"

"You're amazing. You're incredibly talented."

Blaine's eyes pricked with tears as he blushed and ducked his head. "Oh, wow, thank you, Kurt, but I don't –"

Kurt cut him off with a quick kiss to the lips. "You're kind, sweet, generous and friendly." He kissed Blaine again.

"You're funny and adorable and encouraging and supportive." Another kiss.

"You know what to say to calm me down when I get overly excited." And another kiss.

"You can sense my bitch fits and know how to diffuse them before I really attack." Kiss.

"You're the perfect size for your perfect hugs." Kiss.

"You're the best cuddler on the planet." A kiss.

"Your kisses still make me weak in the knees." A lingering kiss.

"We fit together in every way possible." A kiss, and foreheads pressed together.

"You are so strong, the strongest person I know. You give me courage and strength. You inspire me. You make me feel loved and wanted and needed. You make me feel _whole_."

A few tears spilled down Blaine's cheeks, and Kurt wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. Blaine's mouth worked shakily, trying to form words he didn't know how to say.

He was completely and utterly overwhelmed by the waves of love washing over him.

"Thank you for opening up to me, Blaine. For sharing everything with me, for trusting me, for letting me into your past. For letting me be there for you."

"I – I love you," Blaine croaked, giving Kurt a small sappy smile with shining eyes.

Kurt grinned back. "I love you too."

Blaine leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Maybe he _could_ be fine again, good, even fixed, with Kurt by his side. In the past week he opened up so much, exposed so many of his old wounds to Kurt, and Kurt stayed with him and comforted him. An enormous weight had been lifted from his chest.

He could heal. He would.

Kurt would help him heal.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm sorry.**


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